


since I can't remember when

by ohmyloki



Series: of gifts and memories [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyloki/pseuds/ohmyloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard not searching for him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	since I can't remember when

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asgardianette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asgardianette/gifts).



> Sequel to ["you'll never know how many dreams i've dreamed about you"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1431676) for my amazing, wonderful friend Itzel. <3

_“You know you have your own room here, in the tower.”_

_“I know, Tony.”_

_“Just thought I’d remind you. Old age and memory loss, you know.”_

_“Is that why you forgot Pepper’s birthday this year?”_

_“...low blow, Cap. Low blow.”_

* * *

The gifts kept up, bringing Steve to a near Pavlovian response when it came to unlocking his apartment door. His heart would kick up a notch and he’d find himself holding his breath until his eyes swept over the chair to see if it was empty… or not.

An empty chair meant a moment of disappointment before Steve went about his normal routine. But if there was something sitting there, if there was something waiting for him, it meant a night full of questions and runaway thoughts. How long ago had he been here? What if Steve had just missed him? How much longer will this keep up, how much longer will Bucky make his presence known without facing him?

The worst, though, were the times when a month or more would stretch between trinkets. Steve’s mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions and he wanted nothing more than to pick up where his search had left off, he wanted to bring Bucky back home and keep him there. But he knew better.

It was hard not searching for him anymore. Steve had never been good at the waiting game, at sitting around doing nothing, but what else could he do? Bucky seemed to have his eye on Steve and Steve knew it was pointless to look.

Natasha noticed, because of course she did, and he only hesitated for a moment before telling her everything. She seemed surprised at how deep the relationship between he and Bucky truly went, but was otherwise unruffled.

Her advice was to let Bucky come to him. It was obvious he was working things out on his own and she was positive he’d show up, some day. But she also warned him that no matter what Steve might think, what he might hope, the Bucky who would show up would not be the one Steve remembers from years ago. He knew this of course, but there’s a pain in his chest all the same.

Sam was the next to notice. He was weirdly upbeat about the whole thing, smiling brightly when Steve told him of the gifts and nodding along when Steve told him about that night in the bar.

“He’s like a wounded animal, man. You’ve gotta let him come to you,” he said.

Steve knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier.

* * *

_“You know it would improve our efficiency as a team if we didn’t have to extract you from Brooklyn every time we’re called out.”_

_“I was there before you were, Tony.”_

_“I still had eyes on the situation.”_

_“Tony.”_

_“Fine.”_

* * *

Steve dug his keys out of his pocket, eyeing his door. It had only been two days since the last gift, but he could never manage to tamp down on the flare of hope all the same. He opened the door quietly, studiously avoiding look at the chair until it’s closed and locked. He pressed his forehead against the frame and inhaled deeply, centering himself. Turning slowly, his eyes land on the chair.

The occupied chair.

“ _Bucky?_ ”

Bucky is already looking at him. He looks--well, he looks good. Far better than the images Steve’s mind conjured when he thought of what Bucky must be doing out there alone. His hair is shorter than when Steve last saw him, slicked back just enough to let a few memories bubble to the surface of Steve’s mind. He still has the stubble, but it’s only a day or two’s growth at most. Like maybe he just forgot to shave this morning. His clothes are nondescript but clean, his arm gleams in the low light filtering in from the window, clearly well taken care of. The only thing that betrays his put-together appearance are the circles under his eyes and the look of confusion and torment that briefly crosses his face.

Steve doesn’t know what to do, so he reverts back to his routine. He deposits his keys on the table, shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the hook, turning words over in his head trying to figure out what to say to the man he’s wanted to talk to so desperately, when Bucky saves him the trouble.

“You were on the bridge,” he states.

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest at the familiar timbre of Bucky’s voice. He turns around and nods.

Bucky stares at him, considering. “And the hellicarrier.”

Steve nods again, not trusting his voice.

Bucky pauses. This time when he speaks, his voice catches in the middle. “You were--the train?”

Steve breaks a little inside at the way Bucky is looking at him, but nods all the same.

The answer seems to have the opposite effect on Bucky, though, his eyes flooding with relief. “Steve,” he breathes out.

“Yeah, Buck. It’s me.”

Bucky looks him over, up and down, as if he’s trying to memorize everything about the man standing in front of him.

“Your hair used to be longer,” he says, meeting Steve’s eyes again.

Steve can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him. He lifts an eyebrow and looks at Bucky pointedly, “I could say the same about you.”

The tight-lipped smile that crosses Bucky’s lips has Steve soaring. Feeling hopeful, he grabs the chair from the dining set and moves it into the living room, setting it a few feet in front of Bucky and sitting down.

Steve doesn’t know why Bucky is here, why he’s finally showing his face now, but part of him doesn’t care. He’s just thankful his friend is alive and even more grateful that he seems to remember. Steve is content to let Bucky lead the conversation.

“I don’t--” Bucky starts. “My mind is pretty fucked up. I don’t know how to--how to sort everything. I’ve done a lot of bad things, Steve.”

“No, Bucky. Bad things were done _to_ you. Bad things were done by others _using_ you. But it was never you.”

Bucky huffs out a dry laugh.

“I’m serious, Buck. And I will tell you a thousand times if I have to. I’ll tell you until you believe it.”

“And if I never believe it?”

“Well, then, I guess you’re just stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Bucky’s lips before he turns serious again. “There’s a lot I don’t remember. There are… empty places that I know used to be full. But so much of what I do remember…” He trails off.

Steve cocks his head, waiting for Bucky to continue.

“What I do remember… is you,” he says.

Steve feels like he’s been lit on fire.

* * *

_“What do you have against the tower?”_

_“Nothing. I just like having my own space.”_

_“You’d have an entire floor there. How much space could you possible want?”_

_“Tony.”_

_“Steve.”_

_“Aren’t you late for a meeting?”_

_“Tony Stark is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.”_

_“Pepper might disagree with that statement, and Gandalf you are not. Though your beard is starting to get a little--”_

_“Fuck off, Rogers.”_

* * *

Hours later, Steve stifles a laugh when he answers the door. Bucky is here, Bucky remembers him despite the years of torture and brainwashing, and now here they are ordering in pizza. It’s so anachronistic he thinks he might be going insane.

When he shuts the door and sets the box on the dining room table, the sound of a needle scratching a record makes him jump. He turns around just as the song starts, his heart doing acrobatics in his chest. Bucky stands in the corner by the turntable, looking down at the spinning vinyl, lost in thought.

Steve walks up to him slowly and stops a few feet away. His mouth is dry but this is one question he has to know the answer to.

“Do you--”

“I remember,” Bucky replies.

He faces Steve, looking lost, and that’s when Steve does what he’s wanted to do all night. He reaches out and touches Bucky, gently grabbing his hand and tugging him over. Bucky resists at first, but comprehension dawns and he lets himself be pulled into Steve’s embrace.

They stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, and sway to the music of their past life.

* * *

Bucky continues to show up in Steve’s apartment. He wont tell Steve what he’s doing when he leaves, but Steve knows the look of a man looking to right a few wrongs, so he quits asking.

Eventually, he starts showing up in Steve’s bed. Innocent at first, or as innocent as it can be between them (which is to say not very). Then not-so-innocent as they spend nights tangled up in one another, mapping each other’s sweat-slicked bodies the way they couldn’t before.

(Steve thinks his favorite new memory is the day they spend entirely naked, only leaving bed to eat and shower. Even then, they were too distracted in the shower to do much cleaning.)

Steve gets Bucky out of the apartment with him more and more. Mostly they walk around New York, exchanging stories and talking about how much things have changed. It’s on one such occasion that they return to the apartment and Steve notices how Bucky tenses as soon as he steps through the door.

When Steve notices the envelope on the chair, he understands. Nothing else seemingly disturbed, Steve walks over and picks it up. He rolls his eyes when he recognizes the handwriting. It’s not sealed, the paper slides out easily along with two pieces of plastic.

_You don’t have to give up the apartment entirely, but it would be nice if you spent some time at the tower. I think Barton is starting to miss you._

_Your creepy boyfriend is welcome as long as he promises to not kill anyone on the premises. But, hey, if you trust him, we trust him. Seventy floors might be a bit much for Romeo to climb, though, so tell him to use the door._

_-Tony_

Steve turns the pieces of plastic over, immediately recognizing the keycard to the tower. His name is printed in bold black lettering on the front of one of them. The other says “James Buchanan Barnes”.

Steve laughs.


End file.
